Can You Keep A Secret

At work! Now, that's a good idea. Lissy is so clever.'OK!'I say. 'I'll try that!'I reach for my bag, get out a pen and write 'shag@work' on my hand, next to where I'vewritten 'nb: darling'. Suddenly I'm filled with fresh enthusiasm. This is a brilliant plan. I'll shag Connor atwork tomorrow, and it will be the best sex we've ever had, and the sparkle will comeback, and we'll be madly in love again. Easy. And that will show Jack Harper.No. This is nothing to do with Jack Harper. I don't know why that slipped out.There's only one tiny hitch to my scheme. Which is that it's not quite as easy to shag yourboyfriend at work as you'd think. I hadn't quite appreciated before how open everything isin our office. And how many glass partitions there are. And how many people there are,walking around all the time.By eleven o'clock the next morning I still haven't managed to put a game plan together. Ithink I'd kind of pictured doing it behind a pot plant somewhere. But now I actually lookat them, pot plants are tiny! And all frondy. There's no way Connor and I would be able tohide behind one, let alone risk any … movement. We can't do it in the loos. The girls' loos always have people in there, gossiping andputting on their makeup, and the men's loos … yuck. No way. We can't do it in Connor's office because the walls are completely made of glass andthere aren't any blinds or anything. Plus people are always coming in and out of it to getstuff out of his filing cabinet. Oh, this is ridiculous. People having affairs must have sex at the office all the time. Isthere some special secret shagging room I don't know about?I can't email Connor and ask for suggestions, because it's crucial that I surprise him. Theshock element will be a huge turn-on and make it really sizzling hot and romantic. Plusthere's a tiny risk that if I wrarn him he'll go all corporate on me and insist we take anhour's unpaid leave for it, or something. I'm just wondering whether we could creep out onto the fire escape, when Nick comesout of Paul's office saying something about margins. My head jerks up, and I feel a twinge of apprehension. There's something I've beentrying to pluck up courage to say to him since that big meeting yesterday.'Hey Nick,' I say as he walks by my desk. 'Panther Bars are your product, aren't they?'

'If you can call them a product,' he says, rolling his eyes.'Are they going to axe them?''More than likely.''Well, listen,' I say quickly. 'Can I have a tiny bit of the marketing budget to put a couponad in a magazine?' Nick puts his hands on his hips and stares at me.'Do what?''Put in an ad. It won't be very expensive, I promise. No-one will even notice.''Where?'' Bowling Monthly,' I say, flushing slightly. 'My grandpa gets it.''Bowling what ?''Please! Look, you don't have to do anything. I'll sort it all out. It'll be a drop in the oceancompared to all the other ads you've run.' I stare at him entreatingly. 'Please … please …''Oh all right!' he says impatiently. 'It's a dead duck, anyway.' 'Thanks!' I beam at him, then as he walks off, reach for the phone and dial Grandpa'snumber.'Hi Grandpa!' I say as his answermachine beeps. 'I'm putting a money-off coupon ad forPanther Bars in Bowling Monthly . So tell all your friends! You can stock up cheaply. I'llsee you soon, OK?''Emma?' Grandpa's voice suddenly booms into my ear. 'I'm here! Just screening.''Screening?' I echo, trying not to sound too surprised. Grandpa screens? 'It's my new hobby. Have you not heard of it? You listen to your friends leavingmessages and laugh at them. Most amusing. Now Emma, I was meaning to ring you. Isaw a very alarming piece on the news yesterday, about muggings in central London.'Not this again.'Grandpa—''Promise me you don't take London transport, Emma.' 'I er … promise,' I say, crossing my fingers. 'Grandpa, I have to go, really. But I'll call

again soon. Love you.''Love you too, darling girl.'As I put the phone down I feel a tiny glow of satisfaction. That's one thing done.But what about Connor? 'I'll just have to go and fish it out of the archives,' Caroline is saying across the office,and my head pops up.The archive room. Of course. Of course! No-one goes to the archive room unless theyabsolutely have to. It's way down in the basement, and it's all dark with no windows andloads of old books and magazines, and you end up grovelling on the floor to get what youwant.It's perfect.'I'll go,' I say, trying to sound nonchalant. 'If you like. What do you have to find?' 'Would you?' says Caroline gratefully. 'Thanks, Emma. It's an old ad in some defunctmagazine. This is the reference …' She hands me a piece of paper and I take it, feeling athrill of excitement. As she walks away, I demurely pick up my phone and dial Connor'snumber. 'Hey Connor,' I say in a low, husky voice. 'Meet me in the archive room. I've gotsomething I want to show you.''What?''Just … be there,' I say, feeling like Sharon Stone.Ha! Office shag here I come!I hurry down the corridor as quickly as I can, but as I pass Admin I'm accosted by WendySmith, who wants to know if I'd like to play in the netball team. So I don't actually get tothe basement for a few minutes, and when I open the door, Connor is standing there,looking at his watch.That's rather annoying. I'd planned to be waiting for him. I was going to be sitting on apile of books which I would have quickly constructed, one leg crossed over the other andmy skirt hitched up seductively.Oh well.'Hi,' I say, in the same husky voice.

'Hi,' says Connor, with a frown. 'Emma, what is this? I'm really busy this morning.''I just wanted to see you. A lot of you.' I push the door shut with an abandoned gestureand trail my finger down his chest, like an aftershave commercial. 'We never make lovespontaneously any more.''What?' Connor stares at me.'Come on.' I start unbuttoning his shirt with a sultry expression. 'Let's do it. Right here,right now.''Are you crazy ?' says Connor, pushing my fingers out of the way and hastily rebuttoninghis shirt. 'Emma, we're in the office!''So what? We're young, we're supposed to be in love …' I trail a hand even further down,and Connor's eyes widen.'Stop!' he hisses. 'Stop right now! Emma, are you drunk or something?''I just want to have sex! Is that too much to ask?''Is it too much to ask that we do it in bed like normal people?''But we don't do it in bed! I mean, hardly ever!'There's a sharp silence.'Emma,' says Connor at last. 'This isn't the time or the place—''It is! It could be! This is how we get the spark back! Lissy said—''You discussed our sex life with Lissy?' Connor looks aghast.'Obviously I didn't mention us ,' I say, hastily backtracking. 'We were just talking about… about couples in general, and she said doing it at work can be … sexy! Come on,Connor!' I shimmy close to him and pull one of his hands inside my bra. 'Don't you findthis exciting? Just the thought that someone could be walking down the corridor rightnow …' I come to a halt as I hear a sound.I think someone is walking down the corridor right now.Oh shit.'I can hear footsteps!' Connor hisses, and pulls sharply away from me, but his hand staysexactly where it is, inside my bra. He stares at it in horror. 'I'm stuck! My bloody watch.

It's snagged on your jumper!' He yanks at it. 'Fuck! I can't move my arm!''Pull it!''I am pulling it!' He looks frantically around. 'Where are some scissors?''You're not cutting my jumper,' I say in horror. 'Do you have any other suggestions?' He yanks sharply again, and I give a muffledshriek. 'Ow! Stop it! You'll ruin it!''Oh I'll ruin it. And that's our major concern, is it?''I've always hated that stupid watch! If you'd just worn the one I gave you—'I break off. There are definitely footsteps approaching. They're nearly outside the door.'Fuck!' Connor's looking around distractedly. 'Fucking … fucking …' 'Calm down! We'll just shuffle into the corner,' I hiss. 'Anyway, they might not evencome in.''This was a great idea, Emma,' he mutters furiously, as we do a hasty, awkward shuffleacross the room together. 'Really great.''Don't blame me!' I retort. 'I just wanted to get a bit of passion back into our—' I freezeas the door opens.No. God, no.I feel lightheaded with shock.Jack Harper is standing in the doorway, holding a big bundle of old magazines. Slowly, his eyes run over us, taking in Connor's angry expression, his hand inside mybra, my agonized face.'Mr Harper,' Connor begins to stutter. 'I'm so very, very sorry. We're … we didn't …' Heclears his throat. 'Can I just say how mortified I am … we both are …''I'm sure you are,' says Jack. His face is blank and unreadable; his voice as dry as ever.'Perhaps the pair of you could adjust your dress before returning to your desks?'The door closes behind him, and we stand motionless, like waxworks.'Look, can you just get your bloody hand out of my top?' I say at last, suddenly feeling

irritated beyond belief with Connor. All my desire for sex has vanished. I feel completelylivid with myself. And Connor. And everybody.TENJack Harper leaves today.Thank God. Thank God. Because I really couldn't cope with any more of … of him . If Ican just keep my head down and avoid him until five o'clock and then run out of the door,then everything will be fine. Life will be back to normal and I will stop feeling as if myradar's been skewed by some invisible magnetic force.I don't know why I'm in such a jumpy, irritable mood. Because although I nearly died ofembarrassment yesterday, things are pretty good. First of all, it doesn't look like' Connorand I are going to get the sack for having sex at work, which was my immediate fear. Andsecondly, my brilliant plan worked. As soon as we got back to our desks, Connor startedsending me apologetic emails. And then last night we had sex. Twice. With scentedcandles. I think Connor must have read somewhere that girls like scented candles during sex.Maybe in Cosmo . Because every time he brings them out, he gives me this 'aren't Iconsiderate?' look, and I have to say 'Oh! Scented candles! How lovely!'I mean, don't get me wrong. I don't mind scented candles. But it's not as if they actuallydo anything, is it? They just stand there and burn. And then at crucial moments I findmyself thinking 'I hope the scented candle doesn't fall over', which is a bit distracting.Anyway. So we had sex. And tonight we're going to look at a flat together. It doesn't have a wooden floor orshutters – but it has a Jacuzzi in the bathroom, which is pretty cool. So my life is comingtogether nicely. I don't know why I'm feeling so pissed off. I don't know what's—I don't want to move in with Connor, says a tiny voice in my brain before I can stop it.No. That can't be right. That cannot possibly be right. Connor is perfect. Everyone knowsthat.But I don't want to— Shut up. We're the Perfect Couple. We have sex with scented candles. And we go forwalks by the river. And we read the papers on Sundays with cups of coffee in pyjamas.That's what perfect couples do.But—

Stop it! I swallow hard. Connor is the one good thing in my life. If I didn't have Connor, whatwould I have?The phone rings on my desk, interrupting my thoughts, and I pick it up.'Hello, Emma?' comes a familiar dry voice. 'This is Jack Harper.'My heart gives an almighty leap of fright and I nearly spill my coffee. I haven't seen himsince the hand-in-bra incident. And I really don't want to.I should never have answered my phone.In fact, I should never have come into work today.'Oh,' I say.'Er … hi!''Would you mind coming up to my office for a moment?''What … me?' I say nervously.'Yes, you.'I clear my throat.'Should I … bring anything?''No, just yourself.'He rings off, and I stare at my phone for a few moments, feeling a coldness in my spine.I should have known it was too good to be true. He's going to fire me after all. Gross …negligence … negligent grossness.I mean, it is pretty gross, getting caught with your boyfriend's hand in your top at work.OK. Well, there's nothing I can do.I take a deep breath, stand up and make my way up to the eleventh floor. There's a deskoutside his door, but no secretary is sitting there, so I go straight up to the door andknock.'Come in.'Cautiously I push the door open. The room is huge and bright and panelled, and Jack issitting at a circular table with six people gathered round on chairs. Six people I've never

seen before, I suddenly realize. They're all holding pieces of paper and sipping water, andthe atmosphere is a bit tense. Have they gathered to watch me being fired? Is this some kind of how-to-fire-peopletraining? 'Hello,' I say, trying to keep as composed as possible. But my face is hot and I know Ilook flustered. 'Hi.' Jack's face crinkles in a smile. 'Emma … relax. There's nothing to worry about. Ijust wanted to ask you something.''Oh, right,' I say, taken aback.OK, now I'm totally confused. What on earth could he have to ask me? Jack reaches for a piece of paper and holds it up so I can see it clearly. 'What do youthink this is a picture of?' he says.Oh fucketty fuck.This is your worst nightmare. This is like when I went for that interview at Laines Bankand they showed me a squiggle and I said I thought it looked like a squiggle.Everyone is staring at me. I so want to get it right. If only I knew what right was.I stare at the picture, my heart beating quickly. It's a graphic of two round objects. Kindof irregular in shape. I have absolutely no idea what they're supposed to be. None at all.They look like … they look like …Suddenly I see it.'It's nuts! Two walnuts!' Jack explodes with laughter, and a couple of people give muffled giggles which theyhastily stifle.'Well, I think that proves my point,' says Jack.'Aren't they walnuts?' I look helplessly around the table.'They're supposed to be ovaries,' says a man with rimless spectacles tightly.' Ovaries?' I stare at the page. 'Oh, right! Well, yes. Now you say it, I can definitely see a… an ovary-like …'

'Walnuts.' Jack wipes his eyes. 'I've explained, the ovaries are simply part of a range of symbolic representations ofwomanhood,\" says a thin guy defensively. 'Ovaries to represent fertility, an eye forwisdom, this tree to signify the earth mother …''The point is, the images can be used across the entire range of products,' says a womanwith black hair, leaning forward. 'The health drink, clothing, a fragrance …' 'The target market responds well to abstract images,' adds Rimless Spectacle Guy. 'Theresearch has shown—''Emma.' Jack looks at me again. 'Would you buy a drink with ovaries on it?' 'Er …' I clear my throat, aware of a couple of hostile faces pointing my way. 'Well …probably not.'A few people exchange glances.'This is so irrelevant,' someone is muttering. 'Jack, three creative teams have been at work at this,' the black-haired woman saysearnestly. 'We can't start from scratch. We simply cannot.'Jack takes a swig of water from an Evian bottle, wipes his mouth and looks at her.'You know I came up with the slogan \"Don't Pause\" in two minutes on a bar napkin?''Yes, we know,' mutters the guy in rimless spectacles. 'We are not selling a drink with ovaries on it.' He exhales sharply, and runs a handthrough his dishevelled hair. Then he pushes his chair back. 'OK, let's take a break.Emma, would you be kind enough to assist me in carrying some of these folders down toSven's office?'God, I wonder what all that was about. But I don't quite dare ask. Jack marches me downthe corridor, and into a lift and presses the ninth-floor button, without saying anything.After we've descended for about two seconds he presses the emergency button, and wegrind to a halt. Then, finally, he looks at me.'Are you and I the only sane people in this building?''Um …''What happened to instincts?' His face is incredulous. 'No-one knows a good idea from aterrible one any more. Ovaries.' He shakes his head. 'Fucking ovaries !'

I can't help it. He looks so outraged, and the way he says 'ovaries!' suddenly seems thefunniest thing in the world, and before I know it, I've started laughing. For an instant Jacklooks astounded, and then his face kind of crumples, and suddenly he's laughing too. Hisnose screws right up when he laughs, just like a baby's and somehow this makes it seemabout a million times funnier. Oh God. I really am laughing now. I'm giving tiny little snorts, and my ribs hurt, andevery time I look at him I give another gurgle. My nose is running, and I haven't got atissue … I'll have to blow my nose on the picture of the ovaries …'Emma, why are you with that guy?' 'What?' I look up, still laughing, until I realize that Jack's stopped. He's looking at me,with an unreadable expression on his face.'Why are you with that guy?' he repeats.My gurgles peter out, and I push my hair back off my face.'What do you mean?' I say, playing for time.'Connor Martin. He's not going to make you happy. He's not going to fulfil you.'I stare at him, feeling wrong-footed.'Who says?''I've got to know Connor. I've sat in meetings with him. I've seen how his mind works.He's a nice guy – but you need more than a nice guy.' Jack gives me a long, shrewd look.'My guess is, you don't really want to move in with him. But you're afraid of ducking out.'I feel a swell of indignation. How dare he read my mind and get it so … so wrong . Ofcourse I want to move in with Connor.'Actually, you're quite mistaken,' I say cuttingly. 'I'm looking forward to moving in withhim. In fact … in fact, I was just sitting at my desk, thinking how I can't wait!'So there.Jack's shaking his head.'You need someone with a spark. Who excites you.''I told you, I didn't mean what I said on the plane. Connor does excite me!' I give him adefiant look. 'I mean … when you saw us last, we were pretty passionate, weren't we?'

'Oh, that.' Jack shrugs. 'I assumed that was a desperate attempt to spice up your love life.'I stare at him in fury. 'That was not a desperate attempt to spice up my love life!' I almost spit at him. 'Thatwas simply a … a spontaneous act of passion.''Sorry,' says Jack mildly. 'My mistake.' 'Anyway, why do you care?' I fold my arms. 'What does it matter to you whether I'mhappy or not?'There's a sharp silence, and I find I'm breathing rather quickly. I meet his dark eyes, andquickly look away again. 'I've asked myself that same question,' says Jack. He shrugs. 'Maybe it's because weexperienced that extraordinary plane ride together. Maybe it's because you're the onlyperson in this whole company who hasn't put on some kind of phoney act for me.'I would have put on an act! I feel like retorting. If I'd had a choice! 'I guess what I'm saying is … I feel as if you're a friend,' he says. 'And I care whathappens to my friends.''Oh,' I say, and rub my nose.I'm about to say politely that he feels like a friend, too, when he adds, 'Plus anyone whorecites Woody Allen films line for line has to be a loser.'I feel a surge of outrage on Connor's behalf.'You don't know anything about it!' I exclaim. 'You know, I wish I'd never sat next to youon that stupid plane! You go around, saying all these things to wind me up, behaving asthough you know me better than anyone else—''Maybe I do,' he says, his eyes glinting.'What?''Maybe I do know you better than anyone else.'I stare back at him, feeling a breathless mixture of anger and exhilaration. I suddenly feellike we're playing tennis. Or dancing.'You do not know me better than anyone else!' I retort, in the most scathing tones I can

muster.'I know you won't end up with Connor Martin.''You don't know that.''Yes I do.''No you don't.''I do.'He's starting to laugh.'No you don't! If you want to know, I'll probably end up marrying Connor.''Marry Connor?' says Jack, as though this is the funniest joke he's ever heard.'Yes! Why not? He's tall, and he's handsome, and he's kind and he's very … he's …' I'mfloundering slightly. 'And anyway, this is my personal life. You're my boss, and you onlymet me last week, and frankly, this is none of your business!'Jack's laughter vanishes, and he looks as though I've slapped him. For a few moments hestares at me, saying nothing. Then he takes a step back and releases the lift button.'You're right,' he says in a completely different voice. 'Your personal life is none of mybusiness. I overstepped the mark, and I apologize.'I feel a spasm of dismay.'I … I didn't mean—''No. You're right.' He stares at the floor for a few moments, then looks up. 'So, I leave forthe States tomorrow. It's been a very pleasant stay, and I'd like to thank you for all yourhelp. Will I see you at the drinks party tonight?''I … I don't know,' I say.The atmosphere has disintegrated.This is awful. It's horrible. I want to say something, I want to put it back to the way itwas before, all easy and joking. But I can't find the words.We reach the ninth floor, and the doors open.'I think I can manage these from here,' Jack says. 'I really only asked you along for the

company.'Awkwardly, I transfer the folders to his arms.'Well, Emma,' he says in the same formal voice. 'In case I don't see you later on … it wasnice knowing you.' He meets my eyes and a glimmer of his old, warm expression returns.'I really mean that.''You too,' I say, my throat tight. I don't want him to go. I don't want this to be the end. I feel like suggesting a quickdrink. I feel like clinging to his hand and saying: Don't leave.God, what's wrong with me? 'Have a good journey,' I manage as he shakes my hand. Then he turns on his heel andwalks off down the corridor. I open my mouth a couple of times to call after him – but what would I say? There'snothing to say. By tomorrow morning he'll be on a plane back to his life. And I'll be lefthere in mine.I feel leaden for the rest of the day. Everyone else is talking about Jack Harper's leavingparty, but I leave work half an hour early. I go straight home and make myself some hotchocolate, and I'm sitting on the sofa, staring into space when Connor lets himself intothe flat.I look up as he walks into the room, and immediately I know something's different. Notwith him. He hasn't changed a bit.But I have. I've changed.'Hi,' he says, and kisses me lightly on the head. 'Shall we go?''Go?' 'To look at the flat on Edith Road. We'll have to hurry if we're going to make it to theparty. Oh, and my mother's given us a house-warming present. It was delivered to work.'He hands me a cardboard box, I pull out a glass teapot and look at it blankly. 'You can keep the tea-leaves separate from the water. Mum says it really does make abetter cup of tea—''Connor,' I hear myself saying. 'I can't do this.'

'It's quite easy. You just have to lift the—''No.' I shut my eyes, trying to gather some courage, then open them again. 'I can't do this. I can't move in with you.''What?' Connor stares at me. 'Has something happened?''Yes. No.' I swallow. 'I've been having doubts for a while. About us. And recently they've… they've been confirmed. If we carry on, I'll be a hypocrite. It's not fair to either of us.'' What?' Connor rubs his face. 'Emma, are you saying you want to … to …''I want to break up,' I say, staring at the carpet.'You're joking.''I'm not joking!' I say in sudden anguish. 'I'm not joking, OK?''But … this is ridiculous! It's ridiculous!' Connor's pacing around the room like a rattledlion. Suddenly he looks at me.'It's that plane journey.''What?' I jump as though I've been scalded. 'What do you mean?''You've been different ever since that plane ride down from Scotland.''No I haven't!''You have! You've been edgy, you've been tense …' Connor squats down in front of meand takes my hands. 'Emma, I think maybe you're still suffering some kind of trauma.You could have counselling.''Connor, I don't need counselling!' I jerk my hands away. 'But maybe you're right. Maybethat plane ride did …' I swallow. 'Affect me. Maybe it brought my life into perspectiveand make me realize a few things. And one of the things I've realized is, we aren't rightfor each other.'Slowly Connor sinks down onto the carpet, his face bewildered.'But things have been great! We've been having lots of sex—''I know.''Is there someone else?'

'No!' I say sharply. 'Of course there's no-one else!' I rub my finger roughly up and downthe cover of the sofa.'This isn't you talking,' says Connor suddenly. 'It's just the mood you're in. I'll run you anice hot bath, light some scented candles …''Connor, please!' I cry. 'No more scented candles! You have to listen to me. And you haveto believe me.' I look straight into his eyes. 'I want to break up.''I don't believe you!' he says, shaking his head. 'I know you, Emma! You're not that kindof person. You wouldn't just throw away something like that. You wouldn't—'He stops in shock as, with no warning, I hurl the glass teapot to the floor.We both stare at it, stunned.'It was supposed to break,' I explain after a pause. 'And that was going to signify that yes,I would throw something away. If I knew it wasn't right for me.' 'I think it has broken,' says Connor, picking it up and examining it. 'At least, there's ahairline crack.''There you go.''We could still use it—''No. We couldn't.''We could get some Sellotape.' 'But it would never work properly.' I clench my fists by my sides. 'It just … wouldn'twork.''I see,' says Connor after a pause.And I think, finally, he does.'Well … I'll be off then,' he says at last. 'I'll phone the flat people and tell them that we're…' He stops, and roughly wipes his nose. 'OK,' I say, in a voice which doesn't sound like mine. 'Can we keep it quiet fromeveryone at work?' I add. 'Just for the moment.''Of course,' he says gruffly. 'I won't say anything.' He's halfway out of the door when abruptly he turns back, reaching in his pocket.

'Emma, here are the tickets for the jazz festival,' he says, his voice cracking a little. 'Youhave them.''What?' I stare at them in horror. 'No! Connor, you have them! They're yours!'' Youhave them. I know how much you've been looking forward to hearing the DennissonQuartet.' He pushes the brightly coloured tickets roughly into my hand and closes myfingers over them.'I … I …' I swallow. 'Connor … I just … I don't know what to say.''We'll always have jazz,' says Connor in a choked-up voice, and closes the door behindhim.ELEVEN So now I have no promotion and no boyfriend. And puffy eyes from crying. Andeveryone thinks I'm mad.'You're mad,' Jemima says, approximately every ten minutes. It's Saturday morning, andwe're in our usual routine of dressing gowns, coffee, and nursing hangovers. Or in mycase, break-ups. 'You do realize you had him?' She frowns at her toenail, which she'spainting baby pink. 'I would have predicted a rock on your finger within six months.''I thought you said I'd ruined all my chances by agreeing to move in with him,' I retortsulkily.'Well, in Connor's case I think you would have been safe and dry.' She shakes her head.'You're crazy.''Do you think I'm crazy?' I say, turning to Lissy, who's sitting in the rocking chair withher arm round her knees, eating a piece of raisin toast. 'Be honest.''Er … no,' says Lissy unconvincingly. 'Of course not!''You do!''It's just … you seemed like such a great couple.''I know we did. I know we looked great on the outside.' I pause, trying to explain. 'Butthe truth is, I never felt I was being myself. It was always a bit like we were acting. Youknow. It didn't seem real , somehow.''That's it ?' interrupts Jemima, staring at me as though I'm talking gibberish. 'That's thereason you broke up?'

'It's a pretty good reason, don't you think?' says Lissy loyally.Jemima stares at us both blankly. 'Of course not! Emma, if you'd just stuck it out and acted being the perfect couple forlong enough, you would have become the perfect couple.''But … but we wouldn't have been happy!''You would have been the perfect couple,' says Jemima, as though explaining somethingto a very stupid child.' Obviously you would have been happy.' She cautiously stands up,her toes splayed by bits of pink foam, and starts making her way towards the door. 'Andanyway. Everyone pretends in a relationship.''No they don't! Or at least, they shouldn't.' 'Of course they should! All this being honest with each other is totally overrated.' Shegives us a knowing look. 'My mother's been married to my father for thirty years, and hestill has no idea she isn't a natural blonde.'She disappears out of the room and I exchange glances with Lissy.'Do you think she's right?' I say.'No,' says Lissy uncertainly. 'Of course not! Relationships should be built on … on trust… and truth …' She pauses, and looks at me anxiously. 'Emma, you never told me youfelt that way about Connor.''I … didn't tell anyone.' This isn't quite true, I immediately realize. But I'm hardly going to tell my best friendthat I told more to a complete stranger than to her, am I?'Well, I really wish you'd confided in me more,' says Lissy earnestly. 'Emma, let's make anew resolution. We'll tell each other everything from now on. We shouldn't have secretsfrom one another, anyway. We're best friends!''It's a deal!' I say, with a sudden warm burst of emotion. Impulsively I lean forward andgive her a hug. Lissy's so right. We should confide in each other. We shouldn't keep things from eachother. I mean, we've known each other for over twenty years, for God's sake.'So, if we're telling each other everything …' Lissy takes a bite of raisin toast and givesme a sidelong look. 'Did your chucking Connor have anything to do with that man? Theman from the plane?'

I feel a tiny pang inside which I ignore by taking a sip of coffee.Did it have anything to do with him? No. No, it didn't.'No,' I say without looking up. 'Nothing.'We both watch the television screen for a few moments, where Kylie Minogue is beinginterviewed.'Oh, OK!' I say, suddenly remembering. 'So if we're asking each other questions … whatwere you really doing with that guy Jean-Paul in your room?'Lissy takes a breath.'And don't tell me you were looking at case notes,' I add. 'Because that wouldn't make allthat thumping bumping noise.''Oh!' says Lissy, looking cornered. 'OK. Well … we were …' She takes a gulp of coffeeand avoids my gaze. 'We were … um … having sex.''What?' I stare at her, disconcerted.'Yes. We were having sex. That's why I didn't want to tell you. I was embarrassed.''You and Jean-Paul were having sex?''Yes!' She clears her throat. 'We were having passionate … raunchy … animalistic sex.'There's something wrong here.'I don't believe you,' I say, giving her a long look. 'You weren't having sex.'The pink dots on Lissy's cheeks deepen in colour.'Yes we were!''No you weren't! Lissy, what were you really doing?''We were having sex, OK?' says Lissy agitatedly. 'He's my new boyfriend and … that'swhat we were doing! Now just leave me alone.' She gets up flusteredly, scattering raisintoast crumbs, and heads out of the room, tripping slightly on the rug.I stare after her, completely agog.Why is she lying? What on earth was she doing in there? What's more embarrassing than

sex, for God's sake? I'm so intrigued I almost feel cheered up.To be honest, it's not the greatest weekend of my life. It's made even less great when thepost arrives and I get a postcard from Mum and Dad from Le Spa Meridien, telling mewhat a fantastic time they're having. And even less great when I read my horoscope in theMail , and it tells me I may just have made a big mistake.But by Monday morning, I'm feeling better. I haven't made a mistake. My new life startstoday. I'm going to forget all about love and romance and concentrate on my career.Maybe I'll even look for a new job.As I come out of the tube station, I start to like this idea a lot. I'll apply for a job asMarketing Executive at Coca-Cola or somewhere. And I'll get it. And Paul will suddenlyrealize what a terrible mistake he made, not promoting me. And he'll ask me to stay, butI'll say, 'It's too late. You had your chance.' And then he'll beg, 'Emma, is there anything Ican do to change your mind?' And then I'll say—By the time I reach the office, Paul is grovelling on the floor as I sit nonchalantly on hisdesk, holding one knee (I also seem to be wearing a new trouser suit and Prada shoes)saying, 'You know, Paul, all you had to do was treat me with a little respect—' Shit, My eyes focus and I stop in my tracks, hand on the glass doors. There's a blondhead in the foyer.Connor. A wave of panic overcomes me. I can't go in there. I can't do it. I can't—Then the head moves, and it's not Connor at all, it's Andrea from Accounts. I push thedoor open, feeling like a complete moron. God, I'm a mess. I have to get a grip of myself,because I will run into Connor before too long, and I'm just going to have to handle it. At least no-one at work knows yet, I think as I walk up the stairs. That would makethings a million times harder. To have people coming up to me and saying—'Emma, I'm so sorry to hear about you and Connor!''What?' My head jerks up in shock and I see a girl called Nancy coming towards me.'It was such a bolt from the blue! Of all the couples to split up, I would never have saidyou two. But it just shows, you never can tell …'I stare at her dazedly.'How … how do you know?' 'Oh, everyone knows!' says Nancy. 'You know there was a little drinks do on Fridaynight? Well, Connor came to it, and he got quite drunk. And he told everyone. In fact, he

made a little speech!''He … he did what?''It was quite touching, really. It was all about how the Panther Corporation felt like hisfamily, and how he knew we would all support him through this difficult time. And you,of course,' she adds as an afterthought. 'Although since you were the one who broke itoff, Connor's really the wounded party.' She leans forward confidentially. 'I have to say, alot of the girls were saying you must have a screw loose!'I cannot believe this. Connor gave a speech about our break-up. After promising to keepit quiet. And now everyone's on his side.'Right,' I say at last. 'Well, I'd better get on—''It just seems such a shame.' Nancy eyes me inquisitively. 'You two seemed so perfect!''I know we did.' I force a smile. 'Anyway. See you later.'I head for the new coffee machine and am staring into space, trying to get my head roundthis, when a tremulous voice interrupts me.'Emma?' I look up and my heart sinks. It's Katie, staring at me as though I've grown threeheads.'Oh hi!' I say, trying to sound breezy.'Is it true?' she whispers. 'Is it true? Because I won't believe it's true until I hear you say itwith your own lips.''Yes,' I say reluctantly. 'It's true. Connor and I have broken up.''Oh God.' Katie's breathing becomes quicker and quicker. 'Oh my God. It's true. Oh myGod, oh my God, I really can't cope with this …'Shit. She's hyperventilating. I grab an empty sugar bag and shove it over her mouth.'Katie, calm down!' I say helplessly. 'Breathe in … and out …''I've been having panic attacks all weekend,' she manages, between breaths. 'I woke uplast night in a cold sweat and I just thought to myself, if this is true, the world doesn'tmake sense any more. It simply makes no sense.''Katie, we broke up! That's all. People break up all the time.''But you and Connor weren't just people! You were the couple. I mean, if you can't make

it, why should any of the rest of us bother even trying?''Katie, we weren't the couple!' I say, trying to keep my temper. 'We were a couple. And itwent wrong, and … and these things happen.''But—''And to be honest, I'd rather not talk about it.''Oh,' she says, and stares at me over the bag. 'Oh God, of course. Sorry, Emma. I didn't… I just … you know, it was such a shock!''Come on, you haven't told me how your date with Phillip went yet,' I say firmly. 'Cheerme up with some good news.'Katie's breathing has gradually calmed, and she removes the bag from her face.'Actually, it went really well,' she says. 'We're going to see each other again!''Well there you go,' I say encouragingly.'He's so charming. And gentle. And we have the same sense of humour, and we like thesame things.' A bashful smile spreads across Katie's face. 'In fact, he's lovely!''He sounds wonderful! You see?' I squeeze her arm. 'You and Phillip will probably be afar better couple than Connor and I ever were. Do you want a coffee?' 'No thanks, I've got to go. We've got a meeting with Jack Harper about personnel. Seeyou.''OK, see you,' I say absently.About five seconds later, my brain clicks into gear.'Wait a second.' I hurry down the corridor and grab her shoulder. 'Did you just say JackHarper?''Yes.''But … but he's gone. He left on Friday.''No he didn't. He changed his mind.'I stare at her in disbelief.'He changed his mind?'

'Yes.''So …' I swallow. 'So he's here?''Of course he's here!' says Katie with a laugh. 'He's upstairs.'Suddenly my legs won't work properly.'Why …' I clear my throat, which has gone a little husky. 'Why did he change his mind?''Who knows?' Katie shrugs. 'He's the boss. He can do what he likes, can't he? Mind you,he seems very down to earth.' She reaches into her pocket for a packet of gum, and offersit to me. 'He was really nice to Connor after he gave his little speech …'I feel a fresh jolt.'Jack Harper heard Connor's speech? About us breaking up?''Yes! He was standing right next to him.' Katie unwraps her gum. 'And afterwards he saidsomething really nice like he could just imagine how Connor was feeling. Wasn't thatsweet?'I need to sit down. I need to think. I need to …'Emma, are you OK?' says Katie in dismay. 'God, I'm so insensitive—''No. It's fine,' I say dazedly. 'I'm fine. I'll see you later.'My mind is whirling as I walk into the marketing department.This is not the way it was supposed to happen. Jack Harper was supposed to be back inAmerica. He was supposed to have no idea that I went straight home from ourconversation and chucked Connor.I feel a smart of humiliation. He'll think I chucked Connor because of what he said to mein the lift, won't he? He'll think it was all because of him. Which it wasn't. It so wasn't .At least, not completely …Maybe that's why … No. It's ridiculous to think that his staying has anything to do with me. Ridiculous. Idon't know why I'm so jumpy.As I near my desk, Artemis looks up from a copy of Marketing Week .

'Oh Emma. I was sorry to hear about you and Connor.''Thanks,' I say. 'But I don't really want to talk about it if that's OK.' 'Fine,' says Artemis. 'Whatever. I was just being polite.' She looks at a Post-It on herdesk. 'There's a message for you from Jack Harper, by the way.''What?' I start.Shit. I didn't mean to sound so rattled. 'I mean, what is it?' I add more calmly.'Could you please take the –' She squints at the paper. '– the Leopold file to his office. Hesaid you'd know what it was. But if you can't find it, it doesn't matter.'I stare at her, my heart hammering in my chest.The Leopold file.It was just an excuse to get away from our desks …It's a secret code. He wants to see me.Oh my God. Oh my God.I have never been more excited and thrilled and petrified. All at once.I sit down and stare at my blank screen for a minute. Then with trembling fingers I takeout a blank file. I wait until Artemis has turned away, then write 'Leopold' on the side ofit, trying to disguise my handwriting.Now what do I do?Well, it's obvious. I take it upstairs to his office.Unless … Oh fuck. Am I being really, really stupid here? Is there a real Leopold file?Hastily I go into the company database and do a quick search for 'Leopold'. But nothingcomes up.OK. I was right first time. I'm about to push my chair back when I suddenly have a paranoid thought. What ifsomeone stops me and asks what the Leopold file is? Or what if I drop it on the floor andeveryone sees it's empty?

Quickly, I open a new document, invent a fancy letterhead and type a letter from a MrErnest P. Leopold to the Panther Corporation. I send it over to print, stroll over to theprinter and whisk it out before anyone else can see what it is. Not that anyone else isremotely interested.'Right,' I say casually, tucking it into the cardboard folder. 'Well, I'll just take that file up,then …'Artemis doesn't even raise her head.As I walk along the corridors my stomach is churning, and I feel all prickly and self-conscious, as though everyone in the building must know what I'm doing. There's a liftwaiting to go up, but I head for the stairs, firstly so I won't have to talk to anyone andsecondly because my heart's beating so fast, I feel like I need to use up a bit of nervousenergy.Why does Jack Harper want to see me? Because if it's to tell me he was right all alongabout Connor, then he can just … he can just bloody well … Suddenly I have a flashbackto that awful atmosphere in the lift, and my stomach turns over. What if it's reallyawkward? What if he's angry with me? I don't have to go, I remind myself. He did give me an out. I could easily phone hissecretary and say, 'Sorry, I couldn't find the Leopold file,' and that would be the end.For an instant I hesitate on the marble stairs, my fingers tightly clutching the cardboard.And then I carry on walking.** * As I near the door of Jack's office I see that it's being guarded not by one of thesecretaries, but by Sven.Oh God. I know Jack has said he's his oldest friend, but I can't help it. I do find this guycreepy.'Hi,' I say. 'Er … Mr Harper asked me to bring up the Leopold file.' Sven looks at me, and for an instant it's as if a little silent communication is passingbetween us. He knows, doesn't he? He probably uses the Leopold file code himself. Hepicks up his phone and after a moment says, 'Jack, Emma Corrigan here with the Leopoldfile.' Then he puts down the phone, and without smiling, says, 'Go straight in.' I walk in, feeling prickly with self-consciousness. The room is huge and panelled, andJack's sitting behind a big wooden desk. When he looks up, his eyes are warm andfriendly, and I feel myself relax just the teeniest bit.

'Hello,' he says'.'Hello,' I reply, and there's a short silence.'So, um, here's the Leopold file,' I say, and hand him the cardboard folder. 'The Leopold file.' He laughs. 'Very good.' Then he opens it and looks at the sheet ofpaper in surprise. 'What's this?''It's a … it's a letter from Mr Leopold of Leopold and Company.' 'You composed a letter from Mr Leopold?' He sounds astonished, and suddenly I feelreally stupid. 'Just in case I dropped the file on the floor and someone saw,' I mumble. 'I thought I'djust quickly make something up. It's not important.' I try to take it back, but Jack moves itout of my reach.'\"From the office of Ernest P. Leopold\",' he reads aloud, and his face crinkles in delight.'I see he wishes to order 6,000 cases of Panther Cola. Quite a customer, this Leopold.''It's for a corporate event,' I explain. 'They normally use Pepsi, but recently one of theiremployees tasted Panther Cola, and it was so good …' 'They simply had to switch,' finishes Jack. '\"May I add that I am delighted with allaspects of your company, and have taken to wearing a Panther jogging suit, which isquite the most comfortable sportswear I have ever known.\"' He stares at the letter, thenlooks up with a smile. To my surprise, his eyes are shining slightly. 'You know, Petewould have adored this.''Pete Laidler?' I say hesitantly. 'Yup. It was Pete who came up with the whole Leopold file manoeuvre. This was thekind of stuff he did all the time.' He taps the letter. 'Can I keep it?''Of course,' I say, a little taken aback.He folds it up and puts it in his pocket, and for a few moments there's silence.'So,' says Jack at last. He raises his head and looks at me with an unreadable expression.'You broke up with Connor.'My stomach gives a flip. I don't know what to say.'So.' I lift my chin defiantly. 'You decided to stay.'

'Yes, well …' He stretches out his fingers and studies them briefly. 'I thought I might takea closer look at some of the European subsidiaries.' He looks up. 'How about you?'He wants me to say I chucked Connor because of him, doesn't he? Well, I'm not going to.No way.'Same reason.' I nod. 'European subsidiaries.'Jack's mouth twitches reluctantly into a smile.'I see. And are you … OK?''I'm fine. Actually, I'm enjoying the freedom of being single again.' I gesture widely withmy arms. 'You know, the liberation, the flexibility …''That's great. Well then, maybe this isn't a good time to …' He stops.'To what?' I say, a little too quickly. 'I know you must be hurting right now,' he says carefully. 'But I was wondering.' Hepauses for what seems like for ever, and I can feel my heart thumping hard against myribs. 'Would you like to have dinner some time?'He's asked me out. He's asked me out.I almost can't move my mouth.'Yes,' I say at last. 'Yes, that would be lovely.''Great!' He pauses. 'The only thing is, my life is kind of complicated right now. And whatwith our office situation …' He spreads his hands. 'It might be an idea to keep this toourselves.''Oh, I completely agree,' I say quickly. 'We should be discreet.''So shall we say … how about tomorrow night? Would that suit you?''Tomorrow night would be perfect.''I'll come and pick you up. If you email me your address. Eight o'clock?''Eight it is!' As I leave Jack's office, Sven glances up and raises his eyebrows, but I don't sayanything. I head back to the marketing department, trying as hard as I can to keep myface dispassionate and calm. But excitement is bubbling away in my stomach, and a huge

smile keeps licking over my face. Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm going out to dinner with Jack Harper. I just … I can'tbelieve— Oh, who am I kidding? I knew this was going to happen. As soon as I heard he hadn'tgone to America. I knew.TWELVEI have never seen Jemima look quite so appalled. 'He knows all your secrets ?' She's looking at me as though I've just proudly informedher I'm going out with a mass-murderer. 'What on earth do you mean?''I sat next to him on a plane, and I told him everything about myself.' I frown at my reflection in the mirror and tweak out another eyebrow hair. It's seveno'clock, I've had my bath, I've blow-dried my hair and now I'm on my makeup.'And now he's asked her out,' says Lissy, hugging her knees. 'Isn't it romantic?''You are joking, aren't you?' says Jemima, looking aghast. 'Tell me this is a joke.''Of course I'm not joking! What's the problem?''You're going out with a man who knows everything about you.''Yes.' 'And you're asking me what's the problem ?' Her voice rises incredulously. 'Are youcrazy ?''Of course I'm not crazy!''I knew you fancied him,' says Lissy for about the millionth time. 'I knew it. Right fromthe moment you started talking about him.' She looks at my reflection. 'I'd leave that righteyebrow alone now.''Really?' I peer at my face. 'Emma, you don't tell men all about yourself! You have to keep something back!Mummy always told me, you should never let a man see your feelings or the contents ofyour handbag.''Well, too late,' I say, slightly defiantly. 'He's seen it all.'

'Then it's never going to work,' says Jemima. 'He'll never respect you.''Yes he will.''Emma,' says Jemima, almost pityingly. 'Don't you understand? You've already lost.''I haven't lost !' Sometimes I think Jemima sees men not as people, but as alien robots, who must beconquered by any means possible.'You're not being very helpful, Jemima,' puts in Lissy. 'Come on. You've been on loads ofdates with rich businessmen. You must have some good advice!' 'All right.' Jemima sighs, and puts her bag down. 'It's a hopeless cause, but I'll do mybest.' She starts ticking off on her fingers. 'The first thing is to look as well groomed aspossible.''Why do you think I'm plucking my eyebrows?' I say with a grimace.'Fine. OK, the next thing is, you can show an interest in his hobbies. What does he like?''Dunno. Cars, I think. He has all these vintage cars on his ranch, apparently.''Well then!' Jemima brightens. 'That's good. Pretend you like cars, suggest visiting a carshow. You could flick through a car magazine on the way there.''I can't,' I say, taking a glug from my pre-date relaxer glass of Harvey's Bristol Cream. 'Itold him on the plane that I hate vintage cars.''You did what ?' Jemima looks as if she wants to hit me. 'You told the man you're datingthat you hate his favourite hobby?' 'I didn't know I would be going on a date with him then, did I?' I say defensively,reaching for my foundation. 'And anyway, it's the truth. I hate vintage cars. The people inthem always look so smug and pleased with themselves.''What's the truth got to do with anything?' Jemima's voice rises in agitation. 'Emma, I'msorry, I can't help you. This is a disaster. You're completely vulnerable. It's like going intobattle in a nightie.' 'Jemima, this is not a battle,' I retort, rolling my eyes. 'And it's not a chess game. It'sdinner with a nice man!''You're so cynical, Jemima,' chimes in Lissy. ' Ithink it's really romantic! They're going to

have the perfect date, because there won't be any of that awkwardness. He knows whatEmma likes. He knows what she's interested in. They're obviously already completelycompatible.''Well, I wash my hands of it,' says Jemima, still shaking her head. 'What are you going towear?' Her eyes narrow. 'Where's your outfit?''My black dress,' I say innocently. 'And my strappy sandals.' I gesture to the back of thedoor, where my black dress is hanging up. Jemima's eyes narrow even further. She would have made a really good SS officer, Ioften think.'You're not going to borrow anything of mine.''No!' I say indignantly. 'Honestly Jemima, I do have my own clothes, you know.''Fine. Well. Have a good time.'Lissy and I wait until her footsteps have tapped down the corridor and the front door hasslammed.'Right!' I say excitedly, but Lissy lifts a hand.'Wait.'We both sit completely still for a couple of minutes. Then we hear the sound of the frontdoor being opened very quietly. 'She's trying to catch us out,' hisses Lissy. 'Hi!' she says, raising her voice. 'Is anyonethere?''Oh hi,' says Jemima, appearing at the door of the room. 'I forgot my lip-gloss.' Her eyesdo a quick sweep of the room.'I don't think you'll find it in here,' says Lissy innocently.'No. Well.' Her eyes travel suspiciously round the room again. 'OK. Have a nice evening.'Again her footsteps tap down the corridor, and again the front door slams.'Right!' says Lissy. 'Let's go.'We unpeel the Sellotape from Jemima's door, and Lissy makes a little mark where it was.'Wait!' she says, as I'm about to push the door open. 'There's another one at the bottom.'

'You should have been a spy,' I say, watching her carefully peel it off.'OK,' she says, her brow furrowed in concentration. 'There have to be some more boobytraps.''There's Sellotape on the wardrobe, too,' I say. 'And … Oh my God!' I point up. A glassof water is balanced on top of the wardrobe, ready to drench us if we open the door.'That cow!' says Lissy as I reach up for it. 'You know, I had to spend all evening fieldingcalls for her the other night, and she wasn't even grateful.'She waits until I've put the water down safely, then reaches for the door. 'Ready?''Ready.' Lissy takes a deep breath, then opens the wardrobe door. Immediately, a loud, piercingsiren begins to wail. 'Wee-oo wee-oo wee-oo …''Shit!' she says, banging the door shut. 'Shit! How did she do that?''It's still going!' I say agitatedly. 'Make it stop. Make it stop!''I don't know how to! You probably need a special code!'We're both jabbing frantically at the wardrobe, patting it, searching for an off-switch.'I can't see a button, or a switch or anything …'Abruptly the noise stops, and we stare at each other, panting slightly. 'Actually,' says Lissy after a long pause. 'Actually, I think that might have been a caralarm outside.''Oh,' I say. 'Oh right. Yes, maybe it was.' Looking a bit sheepish, Lissy reaches for the door again, and this time it's silent. 'OK,'she says. 'Here goes.''Wow,' we breathe as one as she swings the door open.Jemima's wardrobe is like a treasure chest. It's like a Christmas stocking. It's new, shiny,gorgeous clothes, one after another, all neatly folded and hung on scented hangers, like ina shop. All the shoes in shoe-boxes with Polaroids on the front. All the belts hangingneatly from hooks. All the bags are neatly lined up on a shelf. It's a while since Iborrowed anything from Jemima, and every single item seems to have changed sincethen.

'She must spend about an hour a day keeping this tidy,' I say with a slight sigh, thinkingof the jumble of my own wardrobe.'She does,' says Lissy. 'I've seen her.'Mind you, Lissy's wardrobe is even worse. It consists of a chair in her room, on whicheverything is heaped in a great big pile. She says putting stuff away makes her brain ache,and as long as it's clean, what does it matter? 'So!' says Lissy with a grin, and reaches for a white sparkly dress. 'What look wouldMadam like this evening?'I don't wear the white sparkly dress. But I do try it on. In fact, we both try on quite a lotof stuff, and then have to put it all back, very carefully. At one point another car alarmgoes off outside, and we both jump in terror, then immediately pretend we weren't fazed. In the end, I go for this amazing new red top of Jemima's with slashed shoulders, overmy own black DKNY chiffon trousers (£25 from the Notting Hill Housing Trust shop)and Jemima's silver high heels from Prada. And then, although I wasn't intending to, atthe last minute I grab a little black Gucci bag.'You look amazing!' says Lissy as I do a twirl. 'Completely fab!''Do I look too smart?''Of course not! Come on, you're going out to dinner with a multimillionaire.' 'Don't say that!' I exclaim, feeling nerves clutch my stomach. I look at my watch. It'salmost eight o'clock.Oh God. Now I really am starting to feel nervous. In the fun of getting ready, I'd almostforgotten what it was all for.Keep calm, I tell myself. It's just dinner. That's all it is. Nothing special. Nothing out ofthe—''Fuck!' Lissy's looking out of the window in the sitting room. 'Fuck! There's a great bigcar outside!' 'What? Where?' I hurry to join her, my heart galloping. As I follow her gaze, I almostcan't breathe.An enormous posh car is waiting outside our house. I mean, enormous . It's silver andshiny, and looks incredibly conspicuous in our tiny little street. In fact I can see somepeople looking curiously out of the house opposite.

And all at once I'm really scared. What am I doing? This is a world I know nothingabout. When we were sitting on those plane seats, Jack and I were just two people on anequal level. But look at us now. Look at the world he lives in – and look at the world Ilive in.'Lissy,' I say in a tiny voice. 'I don't want to go.''Yes you do!' says Lissy – but I can see, she's just as freaked out as me.The buzzer goes, and we jump.I feel like I might throw up.OK. OK. Here I go.'Hi,' I say into the intercom. 'I'll … I'll be right down.' I put the phone down and look atLissy.'Well,' I say in a trembling voice. 'This is it!' 'Emma.' Lissy grabs my hands. 'Before you go. Don't take any notice of what Jemimasaid. Just have a lovely time.' She hugs me tightly. 'Call me if you get a chance.''I will.'I take one last look at myself in the mirror, then open the door and make my way downthe stairs.I open the door, and Jack's standing there, wearing a jacket and tie. He smiles at me, andall my fears fly away like butterflies. Jemima's wrong. This isn't me against him. This isme with him.'Hi,' he says, smiling warmly. 'You look very nice.''Thanks.'I reach for the door handle, but a man in a peaked cap rushes forward to open it for me.'Silly me!' I say nervously.I can't quite believe I'm getting into this car. Me. Emma Corrigan. I feel like a princess. Ifeel like a movie star.I sit down on the plushy seat, trying not to think how different this is from any car I'veever been in, ever.

'Are you OK?' says Jack.'Yes! I'm fine!' My voice is a nervous squeak. 'Emma,' says Jack. 'We're going to have fun. I promise. Did you have your pre-datesweet sherry?'How did he know—Oh yes. I told him on the plane.'Yes, I did actually,' I admit. 'Would you like some more?' He opens the bar and I see a bottle of Harvey's BristolCream sitting on a silver platter.'Did you get that especially for me?' I say in disbelief.'No, it's my favourite tipple.' His expression is so deadpan, I can't help laughing. 'I'll joinyou,' he says, as he hands me a glass. 'I've never tasted this before.' He pours himself adeep measure, takes a sip, and splutters. 'Are you serious?''It's yummy! It tastes like Christmas!''It tastes like …' He shakes his head. 'I don't even want to tell you what it tastes like. I'llstick to whisky if you don't mind.''OK,' I say with a shrug. 'But you're missing out.' I take another sip and grin happily athim. I'm completely relaxed already.This is going to be the perfect date.THIRTEENWe arrive at a restaurant in Mayfair which I've never been to before. In fact I'm not evensure I've been to Mayfair before. It's so completely posh, why ever would I?'It's a kind of private place,' Jack murmurs as we walk through a pillared courtyard. 'Notmany people know about it.' 'Mr Harper. Miss Corrigan,' says a man in a Nehru suit, appearing out of nowhere.'Please come this way.'Wow! They know my name!

We glide past more pillars into an ornate room in which about three other couples areseated. There's a couple to our right, and as we walk past, a middle-aged woman withplatinum hair and a gold jacket catches my eye.'Well, hello!' she says. 'Rachel!''What?' I look around, bewildered. Is she looking at me? She gets up from her seat and, lurching slightly, comes and gives me a kiss. 'How areyou, darling? We haven't seen you for ages!'OK, you can smell the alcohol from five yards away. And as I glance over at her dinnerpartner, he looks just as bad.'I think you've made a mistake,' I say politely. 'I'm not Rachel.''Oh!' The woman stares at me for a moment. Then she glances at Jack and her face snapsin understanding. 'Oh! Oh, I see. Of course you're not.' She gives me a little wink.'No!' I say in horror. 'You don't understand. I'm really not Rachel. I'm Emma.''Emma. Of course!' She nods conspiratorially. 'Well, have a wonderful dinner! And callme some time.'As she stumbles back to her chair, Jack gives me a quizzical look.'Is there something you want to tell me?' 'Yes,' I say. 'That woman is extremely drunk.' As I meet his gaze, I can't help giving atiny giggle, and his mouth twitches.'So, shall we sit down? Or do you have any more long-lost friends you'd like to greet?'I look around the room consideringly.'No, I think that's probably it.' 'If you're sure. Take your time. You're sure that elderly gentleman over there isn't yourgrandfather?''I don't think so …''Also, you should know that pseudonyms are fine by me,' Jack adds. 'I myself often goby the name of Egbert.'I give a snort of laughter and hastily stifle it. This is a posh restaurant. People are already

looking at us. We're shown to a table in the corner, by the fire. A waiter helps me into my chair andfluffs a napkin over my knee, while another pours out some water, and yet another offersme a bread roll. Exactly the same is happening on Jack's side of the table. We have sixpeople dancing attendance on us! I want to catch Jack's eye and laugh, but he looksunconcerned, as if this is perfectly normal.Perhaps it is normal for him, it strikes me. Oh God. Perhaps he has a butler who makeshim tea and irons his newspaper every day.But what if he does? I mustn't let any of this faze me.'So,' I say, as all the waiting staff melt away. 'What shall we have to drink?' I've alreadyeyed up the drink which that woman in gold has got. It's pink and has slices ofwatermelon decorating the glass, and looks absolutely delicious.'Already taken care of,' says Jack with a smile, as one of the waiters brings over a bottleof champagne, pops it open and starts pouring. 'I remember you telling me on the plane,your perfect date would start off with a bottle of champagne appearing at your table as ifby magic.''Oh,' I say, quelling a tiny feeling of disappointment. 'Er … yes! So I did.''Cheers,' says Jack, and lightly clinks my glass.'Cheers.' I take a sip, and it's delicious champagne. It really is. All dry and delicious.I wonder what the watermelon drink tastes like.Stop it. Champagne is perfect. Jack's right, this is the perfect start to a date.'The first time I ever had champagne was when I was six years old—' I begin. 'At your Aunt Sue's,' says Jack with a smile. 'You took all your clothes off and threwthem in the pond.''Oh right,' I say, halted mid-track. 'Yes, I've told you, haven't I?' So I won't bore him with that anecdote again. I sip my champagne and quickly try tothink of something else to say. Something that he doesn't already know.Isthere anything?'I've chosen a very special meal, which I think you'll like,' says Jack, with a smile. 'Allpre-ordered, just for you.'

'Gosh!' I say, taken aback. 'How … wonderful.'A meal specially pre-ordered for me! Wow. That's incredible. Except … choosing your food is half the fun of eating out, isn't it? It's almost myfavourite bit.Anyway. It doesn't matter. It'll be perfect. It is perfect.OK. Let's start a conversation.'So what do you like doing in your spare time?' I ask, and Jack gives a shrug.'I hang out. I watch baseball. I fix my cars …''You have a collection of vintage cars! That's right. Wow. I really … um …''You hate vintage cars.' He smiles. 'I remember.'Damn. I was hoping he might have forgotten.'I don't hate the cars themselves,' I say quickly. 'I hate the people who … who …'Shit. That didn't quite come out right. I take a quick gulp of champagne, but it goes downthe wrong way and I start coughing. Oh God, I'm really spluttering. My eyes are weeping.And now the other six people in the room have all turned to stare.'Are you OK?' says Jack in alarm. 'Have some water. You like Evian, right?''Er … yes. Thanks.'Oh, bloody hell. I hate to admit that Jemima could be right about anything. But it wouldhave been a lot easier if I could just have said brightly, 'Oh, I adore vintage cars!'Anyway. Never mind.As I'm gulping my water, a plate of roasted peppers somehow materializes in front ofme.'Wow!' I say in delight. 'I love roasted peppers.' 'I remembered.' Jack looks rather proud of himself. 'You said on the plane that yourfavourite food was roasted peppers.'

'Did I?' I stare at him, a bit surprised.Gosh. I don't remember that. I mean, I like roasted peppers, but I wouldn't have said— 'So I called the restaurant and had them make it specially for you. I can't eat peppers,'Jack adds, as a plate of scallops appears in front of him, 'otherwise I would join you.'I gape at his plate. Oh my God. Those scallops look amazing. I adore scallops.'Bon appetit!' says Jack cheerfully.'Er … yes! Bon appetit.' I take a bite of roasted pepper. It's delicious. And it was very thoughtful of him toremember.But I can't help eyeing up his scallops. They're making my mouth water. And look at thatgreen sauce! God, I bet they're succulent and perfectly cooked …'Would you like a bite?' says Jack, following my gaze.'No!' I say, jumping. 'No thanks. These peppers are absolutely – perfect!' I beam at himand take another huge bite.Suddenly Jack claps a hand on his pocket. 'My mobile,' he says..'Emma, would you mind if I took this? It could be somethingimportant.''Of course not,' I say. 'Go ahead.'When he's gone, I just can't help it. I reach over, and spear one of his scallops. I close myeyes as I chew it, letting the flavour flood through my taste buds. That is just divine. Thatis the best food I've ever tasted in my life. I'm just wondering whether I could get awaywith eating a second one if I shifted the others around his plate a bit, when I smell a whiffof gin. The woman in the golden jacket is right by my ear.'Tell me quickly!' she says. 'What's going on?''We're … having dinner,''I can see that!' she says impatiently. 'But what about Jeremy? Does he have any idea?'Oh God.'Look,' I say helplessly. 'I'm not who you think I am—'

'I can see that! I would never have thought you had this in you.' The woman squeezes myarm. 'Well, good for you. Have some fun, that's what I say! You took your wedding bandoff,' she adds, glancing at my left hand. 'Smart girl … oops! He's coming! I'd better go!'She lurches away again, as Jack sits back down in his place, and I lean forward, alreadyhalf giggling. Jack is going to love this.'Guess what!' I say. 'I have a husband called Jeremy! My friend over there just came overand told me. So what do you reckon? Has Jeremy been having a dalliance too?'There's silence, and Jack looks up, a strained expression on his face.'I'm sorry?' he says.He wasn't listening to a word I was saying. I can't say the whole thing again. I'll just feel stupid. In fact, I already feel stupid. 'Itdoesn't matter,' I say, and force a smile. There's another silence and I cast around for something to say. 'So, um, I have aconfession to make,' I say, gesturing to his plate. 'I pinched one of your scallops.'I wait for him to pretend to be shocked, or angry. Or anything .'That's OK,' he says abstractedly, and begins to fork the rest of them into his mouth. I don't understand. What's happened? Where's the banter gone? He's completelychanged.***By the time we've finished our tarragon chicken with rocket salad and chips, my entirebody is tensed up with misery. This date is a disaster. A complete disaster. I've madeevery effort possible to chat, and joke and be funny. But Jack's taken two more calls, andthe rest of the time he's been broody and distracted, and to be honest I might as well notbe there.I feel like crying with disappointment. I just don't understand it. It was going so well. Wewere getting on so fantastically. What went wrong?'I'll just go and freshen up,' I say, as our main-course plates are removed, and Jack simplynods. The Ladies is more like a palace than a loo, with gold mirrors, plushy chairs and awoman in uniform to give you a towel. For a moment I feel a bit shy about phoning Lissy

in front of her, but she must have seen it all before, mustn't she?'Hi,' I say, as Lissy picks up. 'It's me.''Emma! How's it going?''It's awful,' I say dolefully.'What do you mean?' she says in horror. 'How can it be awful? What's happened?' 'That's the worst thing.' I slump into a chair. 'It all started off brilliantly. We werelaughing and joking, and the restaurant's amazing, and he'd ordered this special menu justfor me, all full of my favourite things …'I swallow hard. Now I put it like that, it does all sound pretty perfect.'It sounds wonderful,' says Lissy in astonishment. 'So how come—''So then he had this call on his mobile.' I blow my nose. 'And ever since, he's barely saida word to me. He keeps disappearing off to take calls, and I'm left on my own, and whenhe comes back the conversation's all strained and stilted, and he's obviously only halfpaying attention.' 'Maybe he's worried about something, but he doesn't want to burden you with it,' saysLissy after a pause.'That's true,' I say slowly. 'He does look pretty hassled.' 'Maybe something awful has happened but he doesn't want to ruin the mood. Just trytalking to him. Share his worries!''OK,' I say, feeling more cheerful. 'OK, I'll try that. Thanks, Lissy.'I walk back to the table feeling slightly more positive. A waiter materializes to help mewith my chair, and as I sit down, I give Jack the warmest, most sympathetic look I canmuster. 'Jack, is everything OK?'He frowns.'Why do you say that?''Well, you keep disappearing off. I just wondered if there was anything … you wanted totalk about.''It's fine,' he says curtly. 'Thanks.' His tone is very much 'subject closed' but I'm not goingto give up that easily.

'Have you had some bad news?''No.''Is it … a business thing?' I persist. 'Or … or is it some kind of personal …'Jack looks up, a sudden flash of anger in his face.'I said, it's nothing. Quit it.'Great. That puts me in my place, doesn't it? 'Would you both care for dessert?' A waiter's voice interrupts me, and I give him astrained smile.'Actually, I don't think so.'I've had enough of this evening. I just want to get it over and go home.'Very well.' The waiter smiles at me. 'Any coffee?''She does want dessert,' says Jack, over my head.What? What did he just say? The waiter looks at me hesitantly.'No I don't!' I say firmly.'Come on, Emma,' says Jack, and now his warm, teasing tone is back. 'You don't have topretend with me. You told me on the plane, this is what you always say. You say you don'twant a dessert, when really, you do.''Well, this time, I really don't.' 'It's specially created for you.' Jack leans forward. 'Häagen-Dazs, meringue, Bailey'ssauce on the side …' Suddenly I feel completely patronized. How does he know what I want? Maybe I justwant fruit. Maybe I want nothing. He has no idea about me. None at all.'I'm not hungry.' I push my chair back.'Emma, I know you. You want it, really—''You don't know me!' I cry angrily, before I can stop myself. 'Jack, you may know a fewrandom facts about me. But that doesn't mean you know me!'

'What?' Jack stares at me.'If you knew me,' I say in a trembling voice, 'you would have realized that when I go outto dinner with someone, I like them to listen to what I'm saying. I like them to treat mewith a bit of respect, and not tell me to \"quit it\" when all I'm doing is trying to makeconversation …'Jack is staring at me in astonishment.'Emma, are you OK?''No. I'm not OK! You've practically ignored me all evening.''That's not fair.''You have! You've been on autopilot. Ever since your mobile phone started going …''Look.' Jack rubs his face. 'A few things are going on in my life at the moment, they'revery important—''Fine. Well, let them go on without me.'Tears are stinging my eyes as I stand up and reach for my bag. I so wanted this to be aperfect evening. I had such high hopes. I can't believe it's gone so wrong.'That's right! You tell him!' the woman in gold supportively calls from across the room.'You know, this girl's got a lovely husband of her own,' she exclaims to Jack. 'She doesn'tneed you!' 'Thank you for dinner,' I say, staring fixedly at the tablecloth, as one of the waitersmagically appears at my side with my coat.'Emma,' says Jack, getting to his feet in disbelief. 'You're not seriously going.''l am.''Give it another chance. Please. Stay and have some coffee. I promise I'll talk—''I don't want any coffee,' I say, as the waiter helps me on with my coat. 'Mint tea, then. Chocolates! I ordered you a box of Godiva truffles …' His tone isentreating, and just for an instant I waver. I love Godiva truffles.But no, I've made up my mind.

'I don't care,' I gulp. 'I'm going. Thank you very much,' I add to the waiter. 'How did youknow I wanted my coat?''We make it our business to know,' says the waiter discreetly.'You see?' I say to Jack. ' Theyknow me.'There's an instant in which we stare at each other.'Fine,' says Jack at last, and gives a resigned shrug. 'Fine. Daniel will take you home. Heshould be waiting outside in the car.''I'm not going home in your car!' I say in horror. 'I'll make my own way, thanks.''Emma. Don't be stupid.' 'Goodbye. And thanks very much,' I add to the waiter. 'You were all very attentive andnice to me.'I hurry out of the restaurant to discover it's started to rain. And I don't have an umbrella.Well, I don't care. I'm going anyway. I stride along the streets, skidding slightly on thewet pavement, feeling raindrops mingling with tears on my face. I have no idea where Iam. I don't even know where the nearest tube is, or where …Hang on. There's a bus stop. I look down the numbers and see one that goes to Islington. Well, fine. I'll take the bus home. And then I'll have a nice cup of hot chocolate. Andmaybe some icecream in front of the telly.It's one of those bus shelters with a roof and little seats, and I sit down, thanking God myhair won't get any wetter. I'm just staring blankly at a car advertisement, wondering whatthat Häagen-Dazs pudding tasted like and whether the meringue was the stiff white kindor that gorgeous chewy, caramel kind, when a big silver car purrs up at the pavement.I don't believe it.'Please,' says Jack, getting out. 'Let me take you home.''No,' I say, without turning my head.'You can't stay here in the rain.''Yes I can. Some of us live in the real world, you know.'I turn away and pretend to be studying a poster about AIDS. The next moment Jack has

arrived in the bus shelter. He sits down in the little seat next to mine and for a while we'reboth silent.'I know I was terrible company this evening,' he says eventually. 'And I'm sorry. I'm alsosorry I can't tell you anything about it. But my life is … complicated. And some bits of itare very delicate. Do you understand?' No, I want to say. No, I don't understand, when I've told you every single little thingabout me.'I suppose,' I say, with a tiny shrug.The rain is beating down even harder, thundering on the roof of the shelter and creepinginto my – Jemima's – silver sandals. God, I hope it won't stain them.'I'm sorry the evening was a disappointment to you,' says Jack, lifting his voice above thenoise.'It wasn't,' I say, suddenly feeling bad. 'I just … I had such high hopes! I wanted to get toknow you a bit, and I wanted to have fun … and for us to laugh … and I wanted one ofthose pink cocktails, not champagne …'Shit. Shit . That slipped out before I could stop it.'But … you like champagne!' says Jack, looking stunned. 'You told me. Your perfect datewould start off with champagne.'I can't quite meet his eye.'Yes, well. I didn't know about the pink cocktails then, did I?'Jack throws back his head and laughs. 'Fair point. Very fair point. And I didn't even give you a choice, did I?' He shakes hishead ruefully. 'You were probably sitting there thinking, damn this guy, can't he tell Iwant a pink cocktail?' 'No!' I say at once, but my cheeks are turning crimson, and Jack is looking at me withsuch a comical expression that I want to hug him. 'Oh Emma. I'm sorry.' He shakes his head. 'I wanted to get to know you too. And Iwanted to have fun, too. It sounds like we both wanted the same things. And it's my faultwe didn't get them.''It's not your fault,' I mumble awkwardly.

'This is not the way I planned for things to go.' He looks at me seriously. 'Will you giveme another chance?'A big red double-decker bus rumbles up to the bus stop, and we both look up.'I've got to go,' I say, standing up. 'This is my bus.''Emma, don't be silly. Come in the car.''No. I'm going on the bus!'The automatic doors open, and I step onto the bus. I show my travelcard to the driver andhe nods.'You're seriously considering riding on this thing?' says Jack, stepping on behind me. Hepeers dubiously at the usual motley collection of night bus riders. 'Is this safe ?''You sound like my grandpa! Of course it's safe. It goes to the end of my road.''Hurry up!' says the driver impatiently to Jack. 'If you haven't got the money, get off.''I have American Express,' says Jack, feeling in his pocket.'You can't pay a bus fare with American Express!' I say, rolling my eyes. 'Don't you knowanything? And anyway.' I stare at my travelcard for a few seconds. 'I think I'd rather be onmy own, if you don't mind.''I see,' says Jack in a different voice. 'I guess I'd better get off,' he says to the driver. Thenhe looks at me. 'You haven't answered me. Can we try again? Tomorrow night. And thistime we'll do whatever you want. You call the shots.' 'OK.' I'm trying to give a noncommittal shrug, but as I meet his eye I find myselfsmiling, too.'Eight o'clock again?''Eight o'clock. And leave the car behind,' I add firmly. 'We'll do things my way.''Great! I look forward to it. Goodnight, Emma.''Goodnight.'As he turns to get off, I climb up the stairs to the top deck of the bus. I head for the frontseat, the place I always used to sit when I was a child, and stare out at the dark, rainy,London night. If I stare for long enough, the street lights become blurred like akaleidoscope. Like fairyland.

Swooshing round my mind are images of the woman in gold, the pink cocktail, Jack'sface as I said I was leaving, the waiter bringing me my coat, Jack's car arriving at the busstop … I can't quite work out what I think. All I can do is sit there, staring out, aware offamiliar, comforting sounds around me. The old-fashioned grind and roar of the busengine. The noise of the doors swishing open and shut. The sharp ring of the request bell.People thumping up the stairs and thumping back down again. I can feel the bus lurch as we turn corners, but I'm barely aware of where we're going.Until after a while, familiar sights outside start to impinge on my consciousness, and Irealize we're nearly at my street. I gather myself, reach for my bag, and totter along to thetop of the stairs.Suddenly the bus makes a sharp swing left, and I grab for a seat handle, trying to steadymyself. Why are we turning left? I look out of the window, thinking I'll be really pissedoff if I end up having to walk, and blink in astonishment.Surely we're not—Surely this can't be—But we are. I peer down through the window, dumbfounded. We're in my tiny little road.And now we've stopped outside my house.I hurry down the stairs, nearly breaking my ankle, and stare at the driver.'Number 41 Ellerwood Road,' he says with a flourish.No. This can't be happening.Bewildered, I look around the bus, and a couple of drunk teenagers stare blankly back.'What's going on?' I look at the driver. 'Did he pay you?''Five hundred quid,' says the driver, and winks at me. 'Whoever he is, love, I'd hold ontohim.'Five hundred quid? Oh my God.'Thanks,' I say dazedly. 'I mean, thanks for the ride.'Feeling as though I'm in a dream, I get off the bus and head for the front door. But Lissyhas already got there and is opening it.'Is that a bus ?' she says, staring. 'What's it doing here?'

'It's my bus,' I say. 'It took me home.'I wave to the driver, who waves back, and the bus rumbles off into the night.'I don't believe it!' says Lissy slowly, gazing as it disappears round the corner. She turnsto look at me. 'So … it was OK in the end?''Yes,' I say. 'Yes. It was … OK.'FOURTEENOK. Don't tell anyone. Do not tell anyone.Do not tell anyone that you were on a date with Jack Harper last night.I mean, not that I'm exactly planning to tell anyone. But as I arrive at work the next day Ifeel almost convinced I'm going to blurt it out by mistake.Or someone's going to guess. I mean, surely it must be obvious from my face. From myclothes, From the way I'm walking. I feel as though everything I do screams 'Hey, guesswhat I did last night?''Hiya,' says Caroline as I make myself a cup of coffee. 'How are you?''I'm fine, thanks!' I say, giving a guilty jump. 'I just had a quiet evening in last night. Just… really quiet! With my flatmate. We watched three videos, Pretty Woman, Notting Hilland Four Weddings . Just the two of us. No-one else.''Right,' says Caroline, looking a bit bemused. 'Lovely!' Oh God. I'm losing it. Everyone knows this is how criminals get caught. They add toomany details and trip themselves up.Right, no more babbling. Stick to one-word answers.'Hi,' says Artemis as I sit down at my desk.'Hi,' I say, forcing myself not to add anything else. Not even about which kind of pizzaLissy and I ordered, even though I've got a whole story ready about how the pizzacompany thought we said green pepper instead of pepperoni, ha ha, what a mix-up.I'm supposed to be doing some filing this morning, but instead I find myself taking out apiece of paper and starting a list of possible date venues where I can take Jack tonight.

1. Pub. No. Far too boring.2. Movie. No. Too much sitting, not talking to each other. 3. Ice skating. I have no idea why I put that, since I can't even skate. Except it was inSplash .4. God, I've run out of ideas already. How crap is this? I stare at the sheet blankly, half-tuning into the idle conversation which is going on around me.'… really working on some secret project, or is that just a rumour?''… company in a new direction, apparently, but no-one knows exactly what he's …''… is this Sven guy anyway? I mean, what function does he have?''He's with Jack, isn't he?' says Amy, who works in Finance but fancies Nick, so is alwaysfinding excuses to come into our office. 'He's Jack's lover.' ' What?' I say, suddenly sitting up, and snapping the end of my pencil. Luckilyeveryone's too busy gossiping to notice.Jack gay? Jack gay?That's why he didn't kiss me goodnight. He only wants me to be a friend. He'll introduceme to Sven and I'll have to pretend to be all cool with it, like I knew all along—'Is Jack Harper gay?' Caroline is saying in astonishment.'I just assumed he was,' says Amy with a shrug. 'He looks gay, don't you think?''Not really,' says Caroline, screwing up her face. 'Not groomed enough.''I don't think he looks gay!' I say, trying to sound light-hearted and just kind of vaguelyinterested.'He's not gay,' chimes in Artemis authoritatively. 'I read a old profile of him in Newsweek, and he was dating the female president of Origin Software. And it said before that hewent out with some supermodel.'A huge surge of relief floods through me.

I knew he wasn't gay. Obviously I knew he wasn't gay- Honestly, do these people have nothing better to do than engage in stupid mindlessspeculation about people they don't know?'So is Jack seeing anyone at the moment?''Who knows?''He's pretty sexy, don't you think?' says Caroline with a wicked grin. 'I wouldn't mind.''Yeah right,' says Nick. 'You probably wouldn't mind his private jet, either.' 'Apparently, he hasn't had a relationship since Pete Laidler died,' says Artemis crisply.'So I doubt you've got much of a chance.''Bad luck, Caroline,' says Nick, with a laugh.I feel really uncomfortable, listening to this. Maybe I should leave the room until they'vestopped. But then, maybe that would draw attention to myself. Just for an instant, I find myself imagining what would happen if I stood up and said,'Actually I had dinner with Jack Harper last night.' They'd all stare at me, dumbfounded,and maybe somebody would gasp, and … Oh, who am I kidding? They wouldn't even believe me, would they? They'd say I wassuffering from delusions.'Hi, Connor,' comes Caroline's voice, interrupting my thoughts. Connor? My head jerks up in slight dismay. And there he is, with no warning,approaching my desk with a wounded look on his face.What's he doing here?Has he found out about me and Jack? My heart starts to thump hard and I nervously push my hair back. I've spotted him acouple of times around the building, but this is our first moment face to face, since webroke up.'Hi,' he says.'Hi,' I reply awkwardly, and there's silence.

Suddenly I notice my unfinished list of date ideas lying prominently on my desk. Shit.As casually as possible I reach for it, screw it up and nonchalantly drop it in the bin. All the gossip about Sven and Jack has petered out. I know everyone in the office islistening to us, even if they're pretending to be doing something else. It's like we're the in-house soap opera or something.And I know which character I am. I'm the heartless bitch who chucked her lovely, decentman for no good reason.Oh God. The thing is, I do feel guilty, I really do. Every time I see Connor, or even thinkabout him, I get a horrible tight feeling in my chest. But does he have to have such anexpression of injured dignity on his face? A kind of you've-mortally-wounded-me-but-I'm-such-a-good-person-I-forgive-you look.I can feel my guilt ebbing away and annoyance starting to ebb in.'I only came up,' says Connor at last, 'because I'd put us down to do a stint on the Pimm'sstall together at the Corporate Family Day. Obviously when I did so, I thought we'd be—', He breaks off, looking more wounded than ever. 'Anyway. But I don't mind goingthrough with it. If you don't.'I'm not going to be the one to say I can't bear to stand next to him for half an hour.'I don't mind!' I say.'Fine.''Fine.'There's another awkward pause.'I found your blue shirt, by the way,' I say, with a tiny shrug. 'I'll bring it in.''Thanks. I think I've got some stuff of yours, too …' 'Hey,' says Nick, coming over towards us with a wicked, eyes gleaming, let's-shit-stirexpression. 'I saw you with someone last night.'My heart gives a huge, terrified bound. Fuck! Fuck fuck OK … OK … It's OK. He's notlooking at me. He's looking at Connor.Who the hell'was Connor with?'That was just a friend,' says Connor stiffly.

'Are you sure?' says Nick. 'You looked pretty friendly to me.' 'Shut up, Nick,' says Connor, looking pained. 'It's far too early to be thinking of …moving on. Isn't it, Emma?''Er … yes.' I swallow several times. 'Absolutely. Definitely.'Oh God.Anyway. Never mind. I'm not going to worry about Connor. I have an important date tothink about. And thank goodness, by the end of the day I have at last come up with theperfect venue. In fact I'm amazed I didn't think of it before! There is one tiny little hitch –but I'll easily overcome it.Sure enough, it only takes me about half an hour to persuade Lissy that when they said'The key shall in no circumstances be transferred to any non-member' in the rules, theydidn't really mean it. At last she reaches into her bag and hands it to me, an anxiousexpression on her face.'Don't lose it!' 'I won't! Thanks, Liss.' I give her a hug. 'Honestly, I'll do the same for you when I'm amember of an exclusive club.''You remember the password, don't you?''Yes. Alexander.''Where are you going?' says Jemima, coming into my room all dressed up to go out. Shegives me a critical look. 'Nice top. Where's it from?''Oxfam. I mean, Whistles.' I've decided tonight I'm not even going to try to borrow anything from Jemima. I'mgoing to wear all my own clothes, and if Jack doesn't like it, he can lump it. 'I was meaning to ask,' Jemima says, narrowing her eyes. 'You two didn't go into myroom last night, did you?''No,' says Lissy innocently. 'Why, did it look like we had?'Jemima was out until three, and by the time she got back, everything was back in place.Sellotape and everything. We couldn't have been more careful.'No,' admits Jemima reluctantly. 'Nothing was out of place. But I just got a feeling . Asthough someone had been in there.'